Series 9: What We Deserve

Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did…damn you, Moffat!

Summary: A much-needed interlude. Missy gets bored with the Doctor and Clara beating around the bush with each other, and takes matters into her own hands…

A/N: Okay, my lovely readers. Just a warning, for those who don't like this sort of thing. This chapter is going to contain pretty much smut - fluff as well, but also smut. M/F smut, F/F smut & (spoilers) M/F/F smut. So for those who don't like that sort of thing, this chapter doesn't contain any relevant information, reveals or plot details so you can skip it if you want. Otherwise, enjoy the smut!

The two days after they escaped from Death passed in a blur to Clara. She'd spent most of them asleep, recovering from the psychic strain of having a millennia old immortal poking around in her brain, apart from a brief hour where the Doctor and Missy had insisted on placing some telepathic shielding in her head, until Clara mastered the skill for herself. Immediately after it was done, she'd dragged the Doctor and Missy off to her bedroom and fallen asleep, too exhausted to contemplate anything else but hiding under her duvet for the considerable future, preferably with those two lying in arms' reach, at least until they got bored and wandered off to do something else.

She had vague memories of Osgood watching them go, a small grin on her face, before she'd disappeared into her own room to rest and recover from the horror of their latest misadventure.

Thanks to the telepathic shielding, Clara remained untroubled by the singing and her sleep was dreamless, a boon she suspected she also owed to her Time Lords. The wounds she'd got during their escape from Chicago had healed, thanks to the healing balm. She suffered a constant headache when awake, however, that not even the Doctor or Missy could ease. So she slept as much as she could, her body eagerly accepting the rest from the beating it had sustained from the past few months. Clara remained vaguely aware of her Time Lords beside her, sometimes sleeping with her, sometimes watching over her as she slept, both singularly and together.

On the third day, Clara was abruptly awoken by an angry thumping sound on her bedroom door.

"Missy! Open this door! Missy!"

"Doctor, what is it?" she asked, groggily, as she sat upright and pushed the duvet away. The Doctor stood by her bedroom door, glaring at it direfully.

"It would appear that Missy has decided to take matters into her own hands, vis-à-vis our relationship," he replied reluctantly. "She's locked us in here."

Clara couldn't help but snort in amusement, trying to muffle her laughter in the duvet when the Doctor bent his angry, embarrassed gaze on her. The eyebrows were in full attack mode too.

With a sigh, Clara cautiously reached out in her head to her link with Missy, searching for the Time Lady. It ached, her mental fatigue lasting longer than her body's, but it was bearable.

'Missy? Really?'

The Time Lady's reply came to both of them. 'I warned you this would happen if you two didn't buck up your ideas. At least it's not a cupboard…'

'True. Thank heavens for small mercies…' Clara replied, her amusement only growing. The Doctor glowered at her, which only served to make her smile more.

"Oh, stop glaring Doctor," she said, rolling her eyes. "Missy will get bored eventually and let us out. Or the Tardis will."

"Traitor," the Doctor snarled, eying the door. The Tardis whirred and rumbled in reply.

"It would seem the old cow agrees with Missy, for once," Clara quipped, making the Doctor snort before he looked to her, almost shyly. Her smile softened, and she held out a hand invitingly. "It's ok, Doctor. I won't bite."

'He quite enjoys biting, actually…' was Missy's unhelpful contribution. Clara mentally rolled her eyes, wincing as her headache complained. 'And you know what's a good cure for headaches, don't you…?"

'Not helping, Missy."

"At least we're not handcuffed together," the Doctor grumbled, finally leaving the door to settle back beside Clara on the bed.

'Damn, knew I'd forgotten something…'

Missy's last comment had them both snickering despite themselves. Their Time Lady was incorrigible. Wordlessly, Clara snuggled into the Doctor's side, draping an arm over his stomach and resting her head against his double heartbeat. The Doctor tensed slightly, but then relaxed, his own arm rising to gently drape around her shoulders. Clara luxuriated in that feeling, content, for the moment, to just lie there with him in companionable silence.

Osgood wandered into the kitchen after a good long nap to a slightly unwelcome sight. Missy was sat at the table, nursing a cup of steaming tea. To Osgood's bemusement, she also had a small jug of banana-flavoured milk that she'd just half-emptied into said cup of tea.

Missy must have sensed her scrutiny because she spoke, without looking up from the depths of her oddly coloured tea. "Yes, I like banana milk in my tea. Can't always help what happens to the taste buds, regeneration can scramble them a little. At least it's not fish fingers and custard. Now that is disgusting!"

"I didn't mean to disturb-I'll just go," Osgood went to backtrack out of the kitchen, not entirely sure she wanted to be around the Time Lady. Sure, they'd…collaborated on stopping Death, but that didn't mean Missy was suddenly going to be her best friend. Or if she was, Osgood wasn't sure she'd survive it. Missy seemed the type to pronounce someone her best friend and then push them off a building when they turned their back.

"Oh, don't be silly," Missy sighed, her voice tense with exasperation. "There's more tea in the kettle, if you want any."

Cautiously, as she was rather thirsty, Osgood edged her way into the kitchen, eyes narrowed as she watched Missy closely. The Time Lady smirked, her gaze as sharp as a predator's.

When Osgood got to the kettle, she realised her dilemma. To safely pour a cup, she'd need to turn her back on Missy.

"Go ahead, dear. I won't bite," Missy said, baring her teeth.

With a deep breath, Osgood turned her back.

She picked up the kettle, the china making a chinking noise as she rested the spout against the edge of a mug, and tipped it. As she watched the bitter dark liquid pour out, she began to infinitesimally relax, even with Missy's razor-sharp gaze on her back. And then…

"Boo!" Missy hissed against her ear, making Osgood jump a foot in the air, spilling tea everywhere.

"Missy! What the hell-?" she began to stutter, as she turned to glare balefully at the recalcitrant Time Lady.

"Oh, you should have seen your face. It was hilarious!" Missy giggled hysterically, holding her side. Osgood, cheeks burning, turned to mop up the spilled tea, as Missy tried to calm herself. As she turned back, Missy was holding out a fresh cup, that teasing little grin still on her face. "You need to lighten up, pet. I'm not going to kill you. You've earned yourself a free pass on that one this time around."

"Thanks…I think," Osgood said, certainly.

Missy beamed. "You're welcome."

Osgood gingerly accepted the new cup, eying the Time Lady narrowly as she left the kitchen, humming a ditty to herself. She sniffed the beverage warily, wondering if she'd smell any poison Missy slipped into it, before taking a sip.

A moment later, she grimaced and spat it out into the sink. Banana milk.

Clara and the Doctor lay together in comfortable silence, just enjoying the other's company without talking, or even communicating through their bond. Dimly, Clara could feel the contentment from her Doctor, and amusement from Missy. No doubt, she was off freaking poor Osgood out.

Clara snorted at the thought of it, prompting the Doctor to look at her questioningly. She felt no reticence in sending him the mental image of what she'd just thought of, making him frown.

"That was not a comforting thought," he said aloud.

"So, Osgood. What are the chances of that?" Clara asked, only half-joking. She'd been genuinely saddened to learn of the brave scientist's death at Missy's hand. "Or is multidimensional karma a thing?"

"Quite possibly," the Doctor chuckled, before his smile faded. "It's…good for her, in a way. All too often, she just ran away from the consequences of her actions and forgot them, covered them up with more bad things. She can't run away from this."

A bit like him. Clara could sense the tenor of his thoughts, but there was a key difference. Missy just forgot the victims of her schemes and actions, usually. The Doctor never forgot those who stood and died at his side. She pushed all her thoughts of acceptance and tenderness his way, trying to lift him out of his souring mood.

It eased a little, and Clara privately marvelled at the burgeoning feeling of closeness between them. Eventually, she might want to learn more about using her nascent telepathic abilities but for now, she revelled in the emotions she could sense from both her lovers.

Well, technically lovers. She had slept with Missy, and Missy had slept with the Doctor. That just left…well…

Clara would never want to rush the Doctor into something he wasn't prepared for, she knew that the next step in their relationship carried far more portents and was shadowed by more demons than she could possibly imagine. She knew it was a big deal for him, to finally give in to the feelings between them, and his feelings for a companion as he had never done before. But she'd be an old lady before the thought of them, together, didn't….well…

And the thought of all three of them, together. Well that just took the biscuit.

Deciding to take the first step and grab the bull by the horns, so to speak, Clara tilted her head up so she could look at the Doctor. "So, Doctor. Is there any anatomical differences I should be aware of, going forward?"

"I beg your pardon?" the Doctor spluttered, his cheeks reddening adorably. 'Adorable' wasn't a word she'd often associated with this version of him, but he looked it now, his eyes wide with shock.

"Well, I know from the times I've slept with Missy that Gallifreyan females and human females are, by and large, anatomically similar. But what about Gallifreyan males?" she expanded on her previous question, eyes wide and innocuous, genuinely curious.

It was a pertinent question, the Doctor had to admit. Clara was remarkably accepting of many of his more alien idiosyncrasies, especially after so long travelling with him, but this was the first time he had ever considered taking his relationship with any companion further. There had been flirtations, even love, but never physical intimacy of that kind. Not with human women, anyway. Apart from Missy, and River. Although Missy wasn't human, and River was technically a hybrid of human and Time Lord so they didn't exactly count.

He felt a surge of amusement from Clara, and guessed her game. She was enjoying his discomfort, found it…adorable. Not a word he'd have ever used to describe himself, certainly. If Missy caught that, he'd never hear the end of it…

'Too late…'

The Doctor sighed. 'Missy…'

'I think I'll call you Doctor Adorable. That's got a nice ring to it, hasn't it?'

Clara chuckled against his chest, letting him know she'd caught that exchange too.

'I am the Doctor Adorable and I am here to save you all!' Missy continued teasingly through their bond, 'The Daleks will be running for the hills. All flee the Adorable Oncoming Storm!'

'Missy, stop teasing him. He's feeling emasculated,' Clara replied, jokingly. The Doctor rolled his eyes.

'I am feeling no such thing. Humans and your outdated concepts of gender stereotypes,' the Doctor retorted lightly.

'Speaking of teasing, have you two shagged yet?' was Missy's next salvo, making both human and Time Lord freeze.

'Missy, you are incorrigible. And impatient.' Clara replied firmly.

'And the sky is blue on Earth, tell me something-' Missy started.

'-we don't know,' the Doctor finished, in their telepathic group chat.

'Well, hurry up then. Before I get bored…' Missy trailed off, almost threateningly as the Doctor and Clara glanced at each other. Nevertheless, they could feel her amusement as she placed a few walls between them, giving them the illusion of privacy at least. They sensed her thinking; she'd slept with both the Doctor and Clara separately, it made sense in her fragmented mind for them to have sex together first before trying a threesome. Closing the circuit, coming full circle, as it were.

Clara shook her head at her two crazy Gallifreyans, before looking to the Doctor. He was reclined against the headboard of her bed, dressed in striped pyjama bottoms and a faded old ACDC t-shirt. He looked almost…human, were it not for the double heartbeats tripping along under her palm.

"So, Doctor…you didn't answer my question," she gently reminded him. After a moment of avoiding her gaze, he met her eyes and that warm smile she adored appeared on his lips.

"No, no major anatomical differences," he explained, having seemingly got over his embarrassment; the only sign he was affected, the gruff note to his already husky voice. "Gallifreyan males, or at least when we've regenerated into a male body, resemble the human male enough that we can perform the sexual act. As you know from…before."

Clara recalled that time she'd walked in on them in the console room, as well as the time they'd slept in the same bed, naked, after escaping from Chicago. She hadn't seen him naked, as such, as she'd turned her back to him to give him some space, and they had fallen asleep not long after that. And then they'd been forced to confront the Eternal…

The Doctor's hand on her cheek drew her back from her memories, drawing haunted doe brown eyes to searching, concerned blue ones. She smiled, letting him know she was alright. But he didn't take his hand from her cheek as he continued to explain.

"There is one difference between Gallifreyan and human males," he said. The image he sent her through their bond made her simultaneously blush and shiver with arousal.

"Oh," she breathed, eyes wide. "Wow."

"Wow indeed," the Doctor smirked, feeling her curiosity and her arousal as it were his own. As if the weight of her lying against him, her scent, her human heat, wasn't arousing enough.

"But, Doctor," she continued shakily, suddenly hiding her eyes from him, a vain attempt to hide her emotions from him. "You do want this? You're not just…going along with it because of me? Or Missy?"

The Doctor's mind whirled for a moment, stunned, before he registered her concern and her memories of his seeming utter lack of interest in romance or sex during their friendship in this body. He couldn't blame her really, it didn't come naturally to him in this form, hadn't really since his tenth body. His eleventh self had been like a floundering school boy, capable of enjoying a kiss but getting flustered by anything more. Even with River, it had taken time and then, only when they had bonded emotionally had he grown comfortable with flirting with her, let alone more. Unlike a large proportion of humans, Time Lords just weren't built that way, to feel sexual attraction and arousal easily, without emotional attachment. And since their society was a cold, sterile one, often most Time Lords went their entire lives without feeling any such sensation, let alone indulging it. When they had been just Theta and Koschei, Missy and he had been reckless enough to do so, with each other, and that would have been considered deviant even amongst their little gang of renegades.

Not sure how to articulate everything he felt on the subject without overwhelming her, or unsettling her, the Doctor settled for a very human method. He leant forward, tilting Clara's head up with his fingers and pulled her lips to his.

He breathed in her sudden squeak of surprise, gently caressing her full lips before pressing for entrance, wondering if she would let him take the lead now. She had initiated their first two kisses, three if one counted the kiss with her echo in Victorian London. To his slight surprise, she did, moaning softly as he teased the seam of her closed lips with his tongue, surrendering it with a sigh as she pressed herself into him. Her human heat seared him, drawing a groan from him, as she shifted atop him, one leg thrown over his hips so she now straddled him. After a moment, they drew apart, breathing hard.

"I want this, Clara. I want you, in every way you choose to give yourself," he told her heatedly, blue eyes burning. She blushed, biting her kiss-swollen lips, before bending her head back to his, accepting his word. He pulled her closer eagerly, relinquishing the reins to her, remembering the way she had shown him what she liked during their earlier kisses, enjoying the new angle of her sitting slightly above him, her hot little human body pressed to his tightly. Her core was slotted perfectly over the hardening bulge in his pyjamas, making him moan as he felt her soft, wet heat so very close.

Clara's hands slid into that glorious head of silver hair, letting her tilt his head back further with a gentle tug that sent heat racing down his nerve endings, her hips rocking artlessly against his. The Doctor kept his hands at her hips, tentatively aiding her movements against him, even if he really wanted nothing more than to touch her in return.

He felt her, through their bond, offering her body for him to touch, almost begging him to do the same to her, and he accepted with relief. He slipped one hand beneath the loose folds of her vest, relishing the heated, soft skin under his fingertips, while he slid the other up her spine, in a slow, torturous tease to her hair, exploring the texture of it against his fingers.

Despite the somatophobia inherent in Gallifreyan society, they had remarkable sensitivity to touch, and a delight in being tactile when they chose to indulge as a result. The Doctor felt nearly overwhelmed with the feel of Clara's skin and hair under his hands, her soft, wet mouth and tongue meeting his with every kiss, and they hadn't even merged their minds fully yet. Desperate to stave off his climax, feeling dangerously overheated, he broke from Clara's lips to nuzzle down the line of her throat, kissing a trail along the throbbing rivulet of her carotid artery, as she gasped and undulated above him, her hands tightening in his hair.

"You know what? I think we're a tad overdressed," Clara gasped breathlessly, rearing back from his hands and his mouth for a moment to look in his eyes.

"You're the boss," the Doctor smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with the movement. With anyone else, he might have felt self-conscious, just a smidge, at them seeing him in an older body, especially knowing as he did about humans' obsession with youth. Not with Clara. She'd made very clear her predilection for older men.

It made him wonder what Danny was all about, if so.

"Danny was just so easy to love," she said, in reply to his thought. "He was ordinary and he never demanded anything from me. He was easy, and that was the problem. I took him for granted, and I lost him. I lost him with so much left unsaid between us. I will regret that to my dying day."

The Doctor paused, his hands on her bare waist as he had started inching her sleep vest up her torso, brow furrowed with concern. "Clara?" he asked, wondering if now was the best time to be doing this, if Danny was on her mind.

Clara looked distant for a moment, her eyes sad, but then she smiled and it was like sunlight piercing through a veil of storm clouds, or a new planet to be explored, or a Good Day where Everybody Lived. It stole his breath away. "But you know," she continued, still smiling down at him. "He taught me not to take things for granted, not to leave things so I'm left regretting them. I'll take everything life throws my way. Even you. And Missy. I wouldn't have it any different for the world."

"I'm glad you're not regretting this, us," the Doctor replied gruffly, "And that's a nice little philosophy you've got there."

"I learned from the best," Clara's smile turned impish, as she reached down between them and grasped the hem of her vest. With one fluid movement, she pulled it up and over her head, baring her naked torso to the Doctor. He swallowed with an audible gulp as he looked at her, her human beauty making his hearts skip a beat.

She was curvier than Missy, soft and human where the Time Lady was all hard edges and angles, like a summer nymph standing next to an ice queen. Although, the Doctor was very careful to keep that errant thought locked securely aware from the bond. He liked his head exactly where it was, and with those two teamed up…Rassilon help him.

"Your turn, Doctor," Clara's little hands tugging at his t-shirt drew him from his ruminations, and he surrendered the garment gladly. His skin felt like it was crawling with sensation, and the fewer barriers between his skin and Clara's, the better.

As Clara threw the unneeded garment aside, the Doctor raised a hand to press tightly over the space where her heart beat rapidly, nestled between the swell of her breasts. He wasn't surprised to see his hand was trembling slightly, as he took in the foreign sensation of her heartbeat against his palm, so different to a Gallifreyan.

Clara read the sorrow on his face, the clouds gathering that were darkening his eyes, and reached down to tip his face back up to hers. "Hey, enough of the heavy alright?" she whispered. "Just be here with me, now. Don't think about anything else."

"Yes boss," the Doctor replied quietly, the sorrow banished as a mischievous grin grew on his lips. "Although we might have a bit of problem going forward, if I'm not allowed to think about anything else…"

"He flirts! The Doctor's got game," Clara chuckled, teasingly. "Who knew?"

"Hush," he replied, without heat, as he pulled her lips back to his. He set himself to do as she'd asked, focussing on nothing but the feel of his Clara's skin as he mapped out this new landscape, the rise and swell of her breasts under his palms, the dip of her waist, the shudder of her spine as she shivered at his touch. Clara's hands reciprocated eagerly, tangling with the crisp layer of grey hair covering his chest, tracing the bands of muscle and trailing up to grip his shoulders. They took their time discovering one another, learning the erogenous zones that evoked the most pleasure, as Clara shuddered when the Doctor's hand brushed the side of her breast and his lips tasted the crook of her elbow; while the Doctor felt the ever-growing wave of his need reach a new high as Clara grazed her nails over his shoulder blades and pressed her lips to his neck, biting just a little.

He retaliated, ducking his head to her breast and taking the nipple in his mouth, making her cry out sharply, her back arching, pressing her body deeper into his.

Clara was on fire, her every cell feeling like it existed only to feel her Doctor's touch, his kiss, his teeth as he explored her body, playing it as expertly as he did his guitar. His body was rangy and lean under her fingers, and she could feel the strength in the muscles holding her. At the periphery of her mind, she sensed his, hovering with a question. She didn't let him in, not just yet. She wanted to experience as much of this in a human way first.

She pulled his head back up from her breast for a kiss, using her weight to push him back on the bed. His hands slid down her back to cup her bottom, dipping beneath the waistband of her shorts to grasp handfuls of flesh and rock her against him. Clara shuddered, feeling a fresh wave of arousal crash over her at the delicious friction he was creating, needing more. If the Doctor's face was any indication, he more than agreed.

Clara quickly scrambled off him, hopping down to the floor and shimmying out of her shorts, letting them fall to the floor. Unafraid, she stood naked before him as he slowly sat upright, blue eyes aflame and focussed entirely on her as he placed his feet on the floor. She smiled her impish grin, and stepped back into him, pushing him back when he went to reach for her again, kissing a teasing trail down his neck, down the expanse of his chest and abdomen, the latter tightly contracting under her mouth as she lathed the heated skin with her tongue. She gripped the waistband of his pyjama trousers, and looked up at him pointedly.

"Is this point where I ask about condoms, and you say you haven't got any?" she asked, only half-joking.

"Doesn't matter. We're genetically incompatible. I can't get you pregnant, Clara," the Doctor replied gruffly. "I'm also clean of any infections."

Clara entertained the mental image of the Doctor popping along to the man doctor for a check-up, before nodding. "Okay then. So am I, by the way," she offered, before gently pulling on his pyjamas.

The Doctor lifted his hips so she could pull them down, balling them up in her hands and throwing them aside to join their ever-growing pile of pyjamas. When she turned back, it was to the Doctor sat up on the bed once more, his hands curving round the dip of her waist, pulling her back into him. Clara bent her head and kissed him fiercely, her mind passion-blank as she raised first one leg, then the other, to straddle him on the bed.

Their foreheads pressed together as Clara let him in with a shudder of desire, his hardened shaft cradled at the juncture of her thighs. Unlike human males, Gallifreyan males possessed a series of ridges along the shaft of the penis, which arousal primed for pleasure, both his and hers, if his hoarse cry was any sign. Clara bit her lip at the thought of him inside her, at last, and rocked her hips against him, gliding him between her slick folds, coating him with her arousal.

Their minds merged, as the Doctor lowered one hand from her back to urge her slightly higher onto her knees, so he could reach between them and play in the sodden heat between her thighs. Clara's breath caught, remembering many a fantasy involving those clever, graceful, long fingers of his. If the Doctor's sudden grin, dark and lustful, was any indication, he'd caught a few of them too.

And he fully intended to deliver.

He teased her, drawing the very tips of his fingers across the edges of her folds, making her shiver at the touch, before gliding his fingers easily between them. He gathered up the slick wet he found there, massaging it into the hot folds of skin, listening to her body's responses as much as her mind's, as she shivered and writhed against him. His fingers trailed from her perineum, teasingly avoiding her core, throbbing and empty, to find and play with her clit, drawing circles on her flesh, making her hips rock and cant with his rhythm.

Clara panted, her breath coming in sharp gasps. She'd never felt so aware of her own skin before, of any glide and caress, of every kiss and brush of his hair-dusted chest against her sensitised breasts. The pleasure of his fingers was delightful, but she needed more. Now. Yesterday. A hundred times over.

The beauty of a telepathic bond during sex with a Time Lord meant she didn't even have to direct him. He heard her thoughts even as they formed in her increasingly tenuous mind, rational thought melting away with every caress of his fingers. It only heightened as he finally stopped teasing, and gently slid one finger into her aching core. Clara gasped and cried out, eyes tightly shut so she could focus on the way her body felt, feeling her heart beat in time with his, feeling his heart beats as if they were her own. It was the same dual sensation as she'd experienced with Missy, and it was just enthralling, just as addictive. They were spoiling her for normal sex already, and they hadn't even got the main event yet!

Clara was wet and relaxed, her body easily cleaving to his, so the Doctor had no difficulty inserting a second finger to Clara's delight. He curled them up upward, searching for that patch of nerves on her inner walls, that elusive magic spot that would have his Clara spiralling into a pleasure so intense, she would never be able to forget it. Clara gasped, clung to his shoulders, her nails pressing deep into his flesh as he pressed his lips to her throat, shuddering at the same mix of sensations he knew she was feeling. With one last thrust of his fingers, pressing his thumb down on her clit as he did so, she broke, crying out into his shoulder.

She stilled in his arms, panting for air, as the Doctor withdrew his fingers and let his soaked fingers trace across her back, waiting for her to come back to him. Clara revelled in the orgasm he'd just given her, but rather than exhausting her, she felt her lust only grow, needing more. She raised her head from his shoulder, meeting his eyes as she felt his own need and desire through their bond. She pressed a kiss to his lips, keeping her eyes open, as she reached back behind her to touch him.

Clara traced her fingers up the shaft, toying with the engorged ridges, making him shiver and groan beneath her ministrations. Never let it be said that Clara Oswald didn't give as good as she got!

Carefully, she positioned herself over the head, shifting back slightly so she could get the angle right. Holding the Doctor's eye, she slipped the head inside and slid down. Her body gave way before him easily, his attentions and her own arousal easing their way as she slid down, taking him deeper inside her. The Doctor's hands spasmed and clutched at her back and hips, fighting the urge to control their rhythm and make her go faster. Clara felt it as if it was her own, but she resisted for now.

She wanted to go about this her way, at least at first. This was their time, their claiming of each other before they took the next step towards Missy, and Clara wanted to relish every second, every inch as he slid into her, the ridges along his shaft catching all the right spots, making her tremble and shudder. Slowly, she sat back until she was fully upright, staring down into her Doctor's face.

He stared back at her, with such a look of rapt adoration and wonder, that Clara wanted to weep. Instead, she smiled and rose up, just as slowly, on her knees. She experimented, controlling the speed of her rise and fall, enjoying the feel of him inside her, noting how her body reacted to his alien one, how the speed and angle changed how he felt inside her. It was enthralling, as Clara felt like she would be glad to just do this forever.

The Doctor let her have her fun, fighting for control, both over his impulses and his body. He felt the wet heat of her body, scorching and human, and then felt the sensations she experienced. He'd never had a female body, but he looked forward to one if it was capable of such incredible pleasure. Nevertheless, he could feel his control waning, his own climax building like a tangible wave of pressure in his body, focussing on one release point.

Clara seemingly sensed his growing difficulty, as she changed the tempo of their lovemaking, rolling her hips into him instead, draping her arms around his neck and clasping her legs around his waist, crossing them at the ankle. The Doctor rolled his hips up into her, matching her rhythm, making them both cry out. The tight angle made the Doctor's pubic bone ride heavily against Clara's clit, increasing the pleasure for her. She felt like she was going insane, not knowing where she ended and he began, both physically and mentally, as the wave of pleasure grew and expanded inside her, like a hot sun readying itself to supernova.

Her world was one of sensation: the rasping friction of his chest against her swollen breasts, his lips brushing hers as they breathed, not quite kissing but clinging like an anchor, his deceptively strong arms around her waist, the hard muscle of his thighs riding against hers, the hard points of his hipbones jutting out into the soft flesh of her inner thighs, the hardened ridges of him inside her that were driving her out of her mind. It was a strange sensation, to feel it from her perspective, but also from his: the hardened nubs of her breasts riding against his chest, her human heat scorching his skin, the way her hands clung so tightly to his shoulders, he was certain there would be marks; the maddening way the muscles of her inner walls tightened and flexed around him, drowning him in hot wetness, and the heartbeat he could feel against his breastbone. All of it fed the ever-tightening knot in her abdomen, her climax growing with almost frightening intensity, if it had been anyone else but the Doctor.

He didn't frighten her. She trusted him, with her life, her mind, her heart and now her body. She was his.

But only because he was hers too.

As that thought washed through them both, Clara felt that tension coalesce, turning to a starburst of heat in her veins that made her scream, as the Doctor tensed and thrust into her hard, one last time. She felt his own climax break over him at the same time, as he whispered her name like a prayer, or a curse. She held tight to him, her limbs shaking and loose, as he slowly lowered them both to the bed, not slipping from her just yet.

Clara felt him slide her onto her side, so they lay facing one another, their hearts thundering in the aftermath, bodies still connected, minds still enmeshed. She felt the Doctor's lips gently nuzzle her cheek, lightly tracing her features, as she smiled and laughed.

"What?" the Doctor asked quietly. "What's so funny?"

"I just hope the Tardis soundproofed this room," she whispered. "I wouldn't want to traumatise poor Osgood more than she already is."

The Doctor chuckled, pressing a light kiss to her mouth. As he moved, he slipped from her, as Clara shuddered and cried out at the abrupt feeling of emptiness. The Doctor smirked, extremely self-satisfied in that moment. If Clara hadn't been also, she would have taken him to task for that expression. "You'll get your chance soon enough," he murmured. "Another difference between human and Gallifreyan males. Much shorter refractory periods…"

"Oh," Clara breathed, eyes wide once more.

"Oh, indeed," a third voice broke their peace, but it was a welcome intrusion. Clara shifted onto her other side, feeling Missy's mental presence return, the walls she'd put up erased, as she stood in the doorway, eyes afire as she watched her lovers. She'd shed her long coat, standing there in blouse, skirt and brooch. Her feet were bare and her hair undone however, as Clara smiled and reached out a hand to her. "Ready for round two already, poppet?"

"You bet," Clara replied saucily, one brow arching. "Too much to do, not enough time. We missed you."

Something dark in Missy's glacial eyes cleared at that whispered confession, a tender expression breaking across her features as she looked first to Clara, then to the Doctor as if to read the veracity of that statement in their faces. She was seemingly satisfied at what she saw, as she leaned down to kiss Clara fiercely, nipping her kiss-swollen lower lip as she cupped the nape of her neck, before breaking from it and leaning across Clara to kiss the Doctor. As she did so, Clara felt her mind reach out to theirs, overlaying them like a blanket.

Missy straightened up, hands going to her blouse but Clara sat up and caught her hands. "What d'you say we give the old man a show while he gets his breath back?" she suggested teasingly.

"Cheeky lass," the Doctor objected, swatting Clara lightly on her bottom, prompting a laugh from Missy.

"I'm game if you are, dear," she smirked, letting Clara do as she would. She leant in and kissed Clara passionately, holding nothing back now, twining her fingers through Clara's thoroughly mussed hair. Clara took her time unbuttoning the tiny closings on Missy's blouse, carefully laying aside her brooch on the bedside table. Underneath, Missy wore a light chemise underneath her corset, the fine boning moulding her waist provocatively under Clara's hands.

"Why do you wear those things?" Clara breathed, breaking from their kiss just long enough to ask. She had enough unpleasant memories from her time in Victorian London to know she'd never wear one willingly again.

"What can I say? I enjoy the constriction, it's oddly…titillating," Missy replied breathlessly, her eyes rolling back in her head as the Doctor reached out from behind them and ran a hand over her breast. Clara's brow quirked at the information, what it implied. Experimentally, she glided a hand up Missy's torso, gently caressing the Doctor's where it cupped her breast, and up to lightly grasp Missy's throat.

"Like this?" she asked, wondering if she had just signed her own death sentence. But that was part of what made it exciting.

Missy's eyes darkened. "Aye, just like that," she growled, before pushing Clara back, shoving her back down to the bed, half reclined against the Doctor. She reached back to find the hidden lace which would undo her corset, Gallifreyan tailoring being such a marvel, and let the garment fall to the floor heedlessly. She pushed her skirt and petticoats down, watching intently as the Doctor lightly caressed their Clara, running his hands over the curve of her waist and down the line of her thigh, Clara making delightful little mewling sounds at his touch, her eyes half-lidded and lazy.

Missy quickly dispensed with the rest of her clothes, revealing her own sleek figure, as she stepped towards the bed. Clara reached up for her, tugging on her hand impatiently. Impertinent minx.

Missy smirked as she let herself be tugged down, lying down beside Clara, twisting onto her side and twining their legs together. With one hand, she gripped the human's hair and pulled her lips back to her own for a kiss, revelling in her heated human skin and wet mouth as she responded avidly, while the Doctor rested his hand on the nape of Missy's neck. Connecting them, holding them all together.

With a sigh, Missy sank into her human and her Doctor's minds, opening herself to them without fear, without regret, without trepidation. Just joyous, freely given intimacy of a kind she'd never known, and would once have scorned. Not now.

Clara's hand coyly glided down Missy's torso, nails playing with the bud of her nipple, sending little shocks of sensation through the Time Lady's nerves, before tracing a meandering path down her stomach to the patch of black curls at the apex of her thighs. A bio-genetic throwback to the Time Lords' less civilised past, or so they had always been taught.

Missy caught her breath, running her hand along Clara's taut thigh muscle, before curving behind the knee and pulling it up to her own hip, opening her up to Missy's own hand as she dipped and played in the heat between Clara's thighs. The Doctor groaned, feeling the sensation it evoked in both of his lovers as if it was his own body, his erection hardening once more against the curve of Clara's bottom. He reached across to pull Missy's lips to his, as Clara teased a gasp from her as her fingers slid into the Time Lady, crooking just so and sending Missy's hips juddering into her hand.

Clara was breathless in her own turn, drowning in heat, both her own and the significantly cooler Time Lords in her arms, slowly warming to her own body, as Missy drew a complex pattern across her clit, before coquettishly dipping the very tips of her fingers into Clara, making Clara pant and beg, though not verbally. There was no need with the bond.

She watched them kiss, Time Lord and Time Lady, above her face, their lips merged effortlessly, move and counter-move, perfectly matched. She reached up to brush her swollen lips against Missy's jaw, then the Doctor's mouth as he broke from their kiss to do the same to her, flicking his tongue teasingly against hers, drinking deep. Missy's lips fell to tracing Clara's throat, biting the long, graceful column of her neck and holding it, just a little. Her core was empty and throbbing once more, and she shifted restlessly between her two lovers, needing more than just teasing and wanting to give them more in return.

The Doctor slotted his body tighter against Clara's back, his hair-dusted legs sliding up until they brushed the back of her trembling thighs, his erection lunging through the honeyed folds between her legs. Missy's hand reached under Clara, guiding the Doctor home as he slid back in to Clara, making her breath escape on a gasp. Missy felt it as if he had entered her, her body shaking with the overload of sensation from three participants in their bond, the telepathic link strengthening with each caress, each kiss, as Clara's fingers lost some of their coyness and began to thrust into Missy in earnest, growing rougher as she began to lose control, to Missy's delight.

Clara barely knew where she was, her human body overwhelmed with the tripled sensations of their lovemaking. One moment she felt the slick, hard glide of the Doctor as he thrust gently into her, their position ensuring a gentler ride than their previous go; the next she felt her own pulsating, searingly hot wetness as if she was the Doctor, then the glide of her own slender digits into Missy, her thumb smearing her arousal over the Time Lady's clitoris as she rocked into Clara's hand, and then the feel of fingers in her own, twisting, writhing and pressing against all sorts of delightful nerve endings, turning the samba-beat of the Time Lords' hearts into a jig. Clara's wasn't much better; if she didn't climax soon, she thought her heart might actually give out.

Suddenly, Clara felt Missy's hand against her clitoris, rubbing hard as the Doctor grasped her breast, rolling the hard nipple between his fingers. She cried out, climaxing hard as she arched between them, her cry drowned out by Missy's lips against hers. Clara, determined that she'd take them with her, curled her fingers one last time into Missy, finding that elusive patch of nerves and pressing hard, as her thumb flicked the Time Lady's clitoris. She shuddered and gasped into Clara's mouth, joining her. The Doctor managed one last thrust before he came with a groan against Clara's neck, his breath panting harshly against her dewed skin.

They lay there together in the aftermath, entwined and intertwining, barely able to discern where they ended or began, their minds slotted together like the pieces of a puzzle. Clara's human mind and body quickly succumbed to a lazy, post-coital doze as Missy gently caressed her human's back, holding her against her chest tightly, while the Doctor held them both, relishing the embrace. In the back of his mind, he felt his own bond to the Tardis, like a warm wave of acceptance and tenderness.

Despite how much his Old Girl disliked Missy, she cared more for his happiness and she could sense it now. For the first time in millennia, he was truly content, with his Girls safely ensconced in his arms, physically and mentally, as the Tardis travelled on through the Void.

To be continued…

A/N: Phew. Even I have to admit that was the filthiest thing I've ever written. Do you know how hard it is to write threesomes? Hands, lips, arms and various body parts flying all over the place. Anyway, hope you enjoyed.

And to think, I used to write a sex scene in 2000 words…